


on the roof

by thatqueergoat (orphan_account)



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Help, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Platonic Sex, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:21:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23193103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/thatqueergoat
Summary: Crutchie needs help cause his leg hurts, Jack helps, idk I'm bad at summaries.
Relationships: Crutchie/Jack Kelly
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	on the roof

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Of_Pigeons_And_Dumbfucks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Of_Pigeons_And_Dumbfucks/gifts).



> PigeonsAndTurtles I posted it, you're welcome. I better get cuddles for this. Mom, if you are seeing this I'm sorry, please don't kill me.

Jack wakes to the soft sound of rustling sheets, the stars above him still shining brightly. He sat up and leaned on his elbows, looking across at Crutchie, about to scold him for waking up so early, only to find his face still buried in the sheets. He reminded himself that Crutchie’s side of the platform was a lot squeakier than his own side, and rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Only now his mind was filled with thoughts of Crutchie. Crutchie, who looks so soft and pretty when he’s asleep. Who gave him permission to go to sleep with a flop of messy tangled curls, flopping over the bundle of sheets he used as a pillow? Like, fuck you to whoever decided that it’d be a great idea to give Crutchie his freckles spotted like constellations all over his body, tickling his face. Why would they torture Jack like this? What did he ever do to them? 

He takes the smaller boy’s figure, how delicate and fragile he looks as he hides beneath the thin blanket Crutchie had lazily pulled over himself when they came back from the streets. Jack is too engrossed in staring at the boy across from him that he doesn’t realize Crutchie was making small movements again, the sheets shifting slightly until he lets out a small whimper. Jack sits up again, watching Crutchie with concern, and was just about to lay back down when Crutchie let out another small, choked-off whine and the thin blanket stirred again and Jack could hear the strained breathing of his best friend. 

He’s having another bad dream, Jack thinks, and then Crutchie whimpers again and moans. Like, literally moans. So softly and quietly as his body shakes in tiny movements, and suddenly Jack can feel his dick slowly rising. And he immediately feels bad, he feels ashamed and horrible and guilty, because while Crutchie is having bad dreams, Jack’s being a creepy pervert licking his lips and rubbing a lazy hand over his clothed crotch, imagining his best friend fucking into him. 

After a while, Jack groans, rubs a hand over his face and pushes the thoughts away as he forces himself to pull away his hand. He crawls over to Crutchie and lightly taps him. Crutchie jumps about five feet and turns over suddenly with wide eyes, his breathing still irregular. 

“Hey, Crutch, you okay?” Jack whispers, even though they’re the only ones up there. 

Crutchie lets out another whine and takes a deep, shaky breath, trying to get his breathing back to normal. “M’fine.” Barely being able to get the words out, Crutchie was not very convincing, not for anyone, especially his best friend. 

“No, you’re obviously not. What happened in the dream?” 

At this, Crutchie’s face lit up, the color of beetroot and looking like it was radiating heat. 

“Crutchie,” Jack said again, this time his voice was more demanding, but still laced with concern and confusion. 

“Er-,” Crutchie coughed awkwardly. “I, uh- wasn’t dreaming. I was awake.” 

“What? Then why did yo-” Jack cut off his own sentence as he came to the realization, and could do nothing but stare at Crutchie as Jack grew even redder than Crutchie. 

“I-I was hard, okay? A-and it felt good and I c-couldn’t stop and-” Crutchie started rambling, wringing his hands desperately, as the heat in his cheeks made his freckles show up more clearly, just like the stars above their heads. 

Jack cleared his throat, opened his mouth, then closed it again, only to open it back up and blurt out, “A-Are you still hard?”

Crutchie was extremely taken aback by this question, but soon decided he couldn’t get more embarrassed than his and nodded miserably. 

“Do you-,” Jack started, then rethought. “Do you wanna finish?” 

“N-no, I don’t need to, really Jack it’s okay, it’ll probably go away soon,” Crutchie said, the blush still on his cheeks and now more prominent than ever. 

“No, um, I don’t mind,” Jack crawled back over to his side of the platform and grabbed one of his unfinished drawings and started to draw, ignoring the rustling of sheets and trying not to think of what Crutchie was doing, only 15 feet away. Suddenly, the noise stopped and the only sound was Crutchie’s labored breathing. 

“Jack?” Crutchie called nervously. Jack froze and called back. “You done?” 

“No,” Crutchie cried out miserably. “My leg started hurting, and I can’t do it, I need help.” 

Jack slowly turned around, telling himself he would not get a hard-on by looking at Crutchie. His best friend was sprawled out like a starfish, his shirt still buttoned but untucked, staring at the still-dark sky.

“You want me to help?” 

Crutchie covered his flushed face and groaned. “I’m sorry, Jack. Please don’t feel like you gotta, I’m sure it’ll go away soon.” 

“No! I mean- I uh- don’t mind.” Jack crawled back over towards him, the platform squeaking again. “Anything to make you feel better. Can you move your good leg?” 

Crutchie nodded and moved his good leg out of the way as Jack helped him sit up and lean against the railing. Careful not to touch his bad leg, Jack palmed the space between Crutchie's thighs. Crutchie groaned softly.

Jack paused for a second, worrying that the noise was a bad one. 

“It’s good,” Crutchie said shortly, knowing his best friend too well. With that encouragement, Jack went back to rubbing Crutchie through his pants. He took in and relished every soft sound his friend made, hoping that his leg hurt less, hoping he could keep touching him.

“Is it working?” Jack whispered, his voice coming out a little more sultry than he’d intended. 

“Yeah,” Crutchie panted. “Keep going.” Jack obeyed and started to press his hand down harder, grinding into the bulge with the heel of his hand. Crutchie gasped, bucking his hips into Jack’s hand. His hard-on pressed awkwardly against the front of his pants. Jack gripped it and stroked him with one hand. Crutchie placed a hand on his hip, pressing down.

“Jack, fuck, you’re making it hard to stay still,” he panted. His hips twitched again and he gasped, half from pleasure and half from the pain from his leg. 

“Do you need me to take your pants off?” Jack asked, feeling Crutchie's length jerk under his hand. 

“God, yes.” Cructhie practically growled, and it went straight to Jack’s cock, as he whimpered and pulled down Crutchie’s pants and underwear as quickly as he could.The platform squeaked slightly as Crutchie threw his head back, barely muffling a moan with his hand, as Jack licked his palm and wrapped his hand around Crutchie’s erection and stroked him from head to base. 

Jack pressed his own thighs together. His cock was getting uncomfortably hard, and it was impossible to ignore how much he loved helping Crutchie like this. He licked his other hand and brought it to palm at Crutchie’s balls. He whimpered, the sound ending in a yell of pleasure as Jack brushed his thumb over his head.

“Don’t stop!” he pleaded. The sound went right to Jack’s dick, twisting his insides with arousal. His mouth watered. The other boy was bucking slightly into his hands, showing no sign of pain. He was doing good. Jack was doing so, so good for Crutchie, making him feel so good. He ground his cock on the floor, barely getting any friction. But he couldn’t take his hands off Crutchie’s cock, no, he was a good, good boy.

Precum dripped down Crutchie’s cock and onto Jack’s hands. Without thinking, he laid down and licked the salty trail. “Fuck, Jackie, good boy,” Crutchie moaned, as if he knew exactly what Jack was thinking, and gripped Jack’s hair. Jack whimpered with pleasure, still grinding his own cock on the floor. 

He licked Crutchie again, this time dragging his tongue from the base of his shaft all the way to the head. He savored the taste of his sweat and pre-cum, the heat of his arousal against his lips, the alien feeling of Crutchie's cock in his hand. Kissing Crutchie’s leaking head, Jack moved one hand down to rub himself through the thin fabric of his pants and underwear.

“Jackie, I’m gonna come,” Crutchie gasped. Jack didn’t care. No, actually, he wanted Crutchie to come on his mouth, so he could taste how good a job he was doing. “I’m gonna-” Crutchie tried weakly to push Jack’s head away from his cock in protest, but the movement quickly turned into pushing him down as Jack ducked down and took Crutchie’s head in his mouth. 

Jack moaned, eyelashes fluttering as he drooled around the sudden intrusion of his mouth. He dragged his tongue along Crutchie’s slit, hoping desperately for more praise. Crutchie moaned nonsensically, tugging Jack’s hair. With one last thrust, he covered the inside Jack’s mouth with cum. Jack swallowed, lapping at the cum that had dripped back on Crutchie’s cock and licking his lips with obvious pleasure. 

“Good boy,” Crutchie purred, petting Jack’s head, now knowing how it affected Jack. Jack sat back on his heels, forcing himself to take his hand out of his pants. 

“You okay now?” 

“Yeah,” Crutchie reached down, tucking his cock back into his pants. His hand rested on his stomach as he gasped for breath, grinning at Jack. God, Jack would do anything for that smile. There was something about the way Crutchie always smiled. It made butterflies escape from the pit of Jack’s stomach and made it seem as if the sun had somehow toppled down from the sky and made a home right there in his heart. Crutchie just had the kind of smile that made you feel happy to be alive and just a little bit more human.  
Crutchie stroked his hair again and Jack knew he had done well, Jack was a good boy. 

He licked his lips again and watched the sun come up, and he heard the morning bell ring. “Go wake up the others, I’m going to wash my hands,” Jack said, nodding towards the water bottle he had on his side of the platform. He tried to hide his erection by leaning over and helping Crutchie down the ladder, handing him his crutch on the way down. 

Jack did not wash his hands. He rushed back to his side of the platform and licked them clean before pulling out his cock and stroking himself with quick, desperate hands. In his mind, Crutchie was still calling him a good boy, still holding his head down so he could pleasure himself better. 

Jack shouted as he came, arching his back. He leaned on the rail, gasping for breath as he came down. Once his head was clearer, he washed his hands and face before wiping up any evidence of what he’d done.

He sat there for a minute, processing what had happened and watching Crutchie greet the other newsies down in the square, with his nose scrunched up as he smiled that beautiful smile that lit up his face, just like the sun would. He looked back at his drawing. It was of Crutchie, his facial expression just like the one he was wearing right now, his freckles dotting his face. 

Just another day of pining for your best friend, he thought, as he heaved a sigh and threw his vest on, grabbing his hat on the way down.

**Author's Note:**

> wow you read to the end i'm proud of you  
> 
> 
>   
> do i get food and/or cuddles now


End file.
